


Snapshot of the Future II

by misha906 (BoopPhysics)



Series: I Need Some Space Extras [2]
Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:13:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoopPhysics/pseuds/misha906
Summary: Another snip set in the same continuity as the fic I Need Some Space. This is set on the day of Vista's 18th birthday.
Series: I Need Some Space Extras [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1421380
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Snapshot of the Future II

Missy arrived before her dad did. 

That was fine, for her. Taylor had something to do after dropping her off and couldn’t stay, but she didn’t mind window-shopping at the Boardwalk anyhow. The stores were expensive, sure, and filled with luxurious clothes she knew she could never pull off even if she could afford them, but she enjoyed the fantasy for what it was and meandered her way through its plentiful boutiques, bowing into one every now and again if only to mildly satisfy her inner retail therapist. 

She headed towards the Legal Seafoods after dawdling for twenty minutes, having bought a small brooch from a streetside stand. Only twenty five dollars, but it was pretty and green and shone nicely in the evening sky and the last time she spent money on herself was a cheeseburger from last week that she bought while on patrol so dammit she was going to buy herself a birthday present. Missy pinned it to the lapel of her jacket and hurried into the restaurant, offering her name and reservation time that she’d set up with her dad. After confirming everything was in order, the hostess led her to the open air patio behind the restaurant that faced the sea and sat her in a small corner table. 

Missy remembered sitting in almost this exact spot eight years ago to the day. One year before the divorce. One year before her powers. One year before everything changed. 

Not that change was necessarily wholly bad—it wasn’t. Well, it was when she was a kid and it was happen _ ing _ . It felt like the sky was crashing to the ground while the world spun head over heels and nothing made sense anymore, especially when mom had started dating a whole other man with a whole other daughter and then revealing to her that they had to live together with them now.

But even those rough and tumble days had come and gone. It felt normal now. Danny was her dad, but he wasn’t her  _ dad _ dad and that was okay, while Taylor was her sister, if not by birth then at least by the trials and tribulations that were beyond what most blood sisters faced together in a lifetime. 

Missy’s musings were disrupted by her dad appearing, startling her. She stood up and grabbed him in an awkward half-hug as he draped his jacket on his chair. 

“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted.

“Hey, dad,” she replied.

“Busy?” he asked after they broke apart and sat back down. 

Before Missy could answer, a waiter came by and filled their glasses with water while explaining the day’s specials. It was mostly the same when it came to the Legal at the Boardwalk: fresh lobster, oysters on the half-shell, dungeness crabs, and anything else with a shell or scales they could scoop up from the bay and put on a grill. Father and daughter admitted they needed some time with the menus and elected to start off with tap water and a shrimp cocktail.

“Not any busier than last year,” Missy said after he went away.

“That’s not saying much, you were in the papers just about every week last year,” her dad said.

Was she? It was hard to remember how many interviews she’d given anymore, especially after taking over the Brockton Bay Wards. Loads of additional work came with the territory of taking command, and since she was in the field with them most of the time, she was the face that spoke to the public. 

“Well, I’m used to it,” Missy said, shrugging.

Her dad laughed. “Okay, kiddo, I believe you,” he said. He picked up the menu and began flipping through it. “So anything catch your fancy?” he asked.

“I like the sound of the swordfish,” Missy said.

“Is that because you’ve never had swordfish?” her dad asked.

“Yes,” Missy answered, sticking her tongue out. Her dad laughed.

“How about you?” Missy asked. “How’s your work been? And...uh...Margaret?”

Margaret was her real dad’s new girlfriend, a new piece in the complicated puzzle of her life that Missy still hasn’t managed to find a place for. She tried to place it near the corner—easy to find and identify—but found her mind unwilling to put it there due to some reason or another. Maybe it was how fast she and her dad’s relationship had progressed, or maybe it was the fact that she looked noticeably older than her dad, Missy didn’t know. The piece sat in the periphery, only called into question when she thought she had its place, but often she found it didn’t fit.

“She’s been good. We’ve all been,” her dad answered in his trademark non-answering way.

“That’s good,” Missy said. The pair lapsed into silence as both pawed for something else to add to the conversation and, when they came up lacking they elected to hide in the awkwardness behind their menus. Thankfully the waiter returned to liberate them from their self-created prisons and soon they began to talk about their meals and plans for tomorrow instead of the bygones and awkwardness of their separated lives.

“No way this was fifteen dollars,” Missy grumbled. 

Her dad laughed. “Boardwalk is Boardwalk, Missy,” he said. “We should consider ourselves lucky there’s even three shrimp, let alone five.”

Legal by the Boardwalk was considered a ‘high class’ restaurant, which was evident by its seating patio that oversaw the ocean, but even Missy was surprised by how far they’d go to circle the wagons to cement their pretension. The shrimp cocktail they’d ordered featured exactly five whole shrimp. To be fair they were very large shrimp, each easily reaching to the bottom of the glass they were served in, but still, only five whole shrimp for fifteen whole dollars? That’d put each shrimp at three dollars apiece, and Missy doubted they actually cost that much. 

“I hope at least my entree matches its price,” she grumbled. Her dad laughed.

It did, arriving the same time her dad’s lobster did, and she tucked in with gusto.

Swordfish was a different beast than other fish, both literally and culinarily. Its flesh was tough and sturdy, a fish that didn’t flake like the more popular sea creatures that New England favored. It didn’t have the soft texture of cod nor the flakiness of haddock and it didn’t hold the fishy flavor that people disliked in salmon or tilapia. Swordfish was closer to the meat of an animal that walked on land instead of swimming in the ocean, and when smoked with a dash of lemon, thyme, and garlic, paired fantastically with the wild rice and spring vegetable medley it was served with. Its briny flavor melded with the rice, lending it much needed flavor to supplement its grainy starch, and its vegetables were cooked to al dente perfection. Missy found a new favorite dish tonight.

“I’m going to order this all the time now,” she told her dad. 

“It’s a good one,” her dad affirmed. 

“Why’d you never get it with mom, then?” Missy asked. 

Her dad fell silent, and Missy cringed as she realized the implication of the words that left her mouth. It didn’t matter that she never meant it that way, only that she’d said it.

“Sorry,” she said. 

“Don’t be,” her dad replied.

The two fell into companionable silence once more. Missy tended to her swordfish, and her dad to her lobster. It was not for another minute that Missy initiated conversation once more. 

“Did you get my email about the tickets to my graduation?” she asked.

“I did,” her dad replied.

“So did you secure your seats yet?” Missy asked.

The nightfall of silence fell unto their table. For several unthinkable moments, Missy heard nothing but the crash of waves upon the supports holding up the patio and the crackle of the heat lamps that dotted the dining area. The world stilled as though to inform her of the impending disappointment.

“I can’t go, Missy,” her dad said.

“What do you mean you can’t go?” she asked.

“I have a work thing. With my new job,” her dad answered.

“You could take a day off. They’d understand,” Missy said.

“It’s a new job, Missy. Out of Brockton Bay. It’s my first day that day.” 

“To what city?”

“Not that far, to Boston.” 

“Then you can make it, right?”

The atmosphere froze. Maybe her father was having difficulty sucking the meat out of the lobster leg he had in his mouth. Maybe she was reading too much into the way his seat sagged as she asked the question. Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. Everything still froze and Missy felt apprehension swelling her heart whilst heartbreak lurked at the next corner.

“Missy, I—”

“It’s a quick thing, dad, not even two hours,” Missy said.

“I have work in Boston—”

“Danny’s going,” Missy said quietly, then quickly shoved a piece of swordfish into her mouth, relishing in the refuge the chewy sinew provided to hide her shame in using the cheapest punch in her arsenal. The garlicky mess stank in her mouth now. The wild rice slid coarsely down her throat and the vegetables behaved as putty in her esophagus.   


“Yeah?" her father asked.

“Yeah,” Missy replied.

“That’s good, then,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Missy said.

“I’m sorry, Missy,” Robert said.

“It’s fine,” Missy lied.

“I can come by for the news conferences,” her father offered.

“It’s fine,” Missy lied again. “Focus on your new job.”

They finished their meals with awkward, stilted conversation. Missy talked about anything and everything that could be shirked away from her graduation, and her father seemed grateful for that reprieve. When the waiter reappeared to take their plates and ask about dessert, both declined. 

“Well. I’ll see you next year,” Missy said as she signed the receipt for their dinner.

“Okay, kiddo,” her father replied. 

“Bye, dad.” 

“Bye, Missy.”

She removed the brooch from her lapel and walked briskly into the parking lot. Taylor was waiting for her.

“Hey,” her sister said as she appeared. 

“Hey,” Missy replied.

Taylor cocked her head as her sister stopped near her shotgun door. “Want to get ice cream?” she asked.

“At the place where mom and dad usually go?” Missy asked.

“Hell no, that place is a tourist trap. There’s a Ben and Jerry’s two blocks down. Dennis and I used to go all the time on patrol. They know me well enough to give extra big scoops,” her sister answered.

“Absolutely then,” Missy said, and hurried into her car.

“How was dinner with your dad?” Taylor asked.

“The same as every year,” Missy said.

Taylor said nothing, but sped up at the next intersection before the light could turn red.


End file.
